Bon Appétit
by AmaranteX
Summary: Moving away from home seemed like a good idea at the time, and when she found a friend in Will Graham, she couldn't have been happier with her life. There was only one problem. It starts with an 'H' and rhymes with 'Cannibal'.
1. Cheval

To the lovely damaracarver on Tumbler, who I wrote this for.

This is the first chapter in a 3 or 4 chapter story with a sequel planned out.

It has been through my beta, but considering the fact that we are both human beings, there might be mistakes.

Beta: NemiNightingale

* * *

She wasn't entirely sure what had brought her to Virginia in the first place. A change of scenery, perhaps? It seemed like such a dull reason, though. There had to be more to it. And yet… There really wasn't. Turning 21 had seemed like such a big deal. It had seemed like a monumental turning point for her. So much of a turning point, actually, that she had decided she wanted to leave the comforts of home and try things out on her own for a while. Away. Far away.

And now, a year later, her dream had finally come true. She had packed her bags, kissed her mom goodbye and uprooted her entire existence in Montana to start a new life elsewhere. Why this place turned out to be Washington, Virginia, she had yet to find out. It seemed like a good destination at the time. Now she wasn't so sure.

After all, it hadn't even been a week yet, and she already missed her family and the horses she would usually ride back in Montana. And she hadn't found a job yet. Or met any interesting people, which was probably the greatest source of her frustrations, and most likely the reason she was already yearning for her old life back in Montana. The life of a recluse was so not her.

So here she was, on November 1st; the 8th day of her new so called 'adventure' in Washington, and she was bored out of her mind already.

Ashland was sitting in front of the television in her pajamas, as she had been doing for the past 6 days, thoroughly enjoying the finer male specimens of the 'The Walking Dead' cast.

"Aaaand, shirt goes off. Not bad, Shane", she mumbled as she munched on a piece of popcorn, her eyes glued to the screen where one of her favorite shows was playing. The show toned off the screen soon after, and Ashland reached for the remote, turning off the TV. She wasn't really in the mood to watch any more episodes of the show she had been watching and re-watching 2 times now in the past week. It was getting quite tedious to look at all of the constant carnage and isolation the characters were going through; it reminded her a bit too much of her own situation. Minus the carnage, of course. Granted, her apartment was in shambles, but at least she didn't have any dead bodies lying around. Thank heavens.

That would have been real proof that she was going insane, and in her current state of loneliness and frustration, she really needed something to distract her before her grievances started having a body count.

'A clear sign I need to get out of here', she thought, and pushed her bored self off the couch to do something before she did a different something. A much more drastic something.

* * *

A sigh escaped Ashland as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song playing on the radio.

She had been driving around in what seemed to be a complete wasteland for about an hour now and, even then, she had yet to find anything suitable… or even livable, for that matter.

'Who knew it could be that hard to find a farmhouse?' she pondered, and turned up the radio with a sigh. At least a good song was on. The Mission Impossible theme might have been more appropriate background music than Venus by Lady Gaga, though, considering how her mission was turning out to be quite the impossible challenge.

Nevertheless, she drove on. It was not like she had anything better to be doing. Except perhaps cleaning up her rancid apartment. But trying to find a suitable place on the country seemed like the less insufferable alternative of the two options.

Humming along to the music, her eyes scanned the land she passed as she drove leisurely down the road.

The land here was great. The houses? Not so much. But eventually she would have to make do with what she found if she had any hopes of starting up her business within the next couple of years. Her parents had saved up a great deal for her over the past decade to help her get started on life when she finally moved out. And she had decided to use the money on living out her dream of starting a horse-breeding business. So she would be able to buy land if she found something nice and reasonably priced, but that wasn't exactly easy to find nowadays. And she did want to wait a bit longer before spending all of their hard-earned money, especially if it wasn't just the thing she was looking for, so it wasn't that big of a deal if she didn't find anything today.

It would probably even be better if she could find herself a job and save up some money before going out to look for a house in the country.

But right now, she needed something to distract herself with, and looking at houses was a perfectly fine distraction from her solitude. And from the looks of it, she wouldn't be buying anything anyways. This place was practically desolate. So this place posed no threat to her parents' savings.

But just as the thought of savings and hopefully affordable country homes went through her mind, she passed exactly what she had been looking for.

Speak of the devil...

Quaint-looking house. Nice land. Far enough from the city to pull down the price a bit. Perfect.

Slowing down the car, she turned down the gravel driveway to the house and stopped, examining the place from top to bottom trying to catalogue it in her mind.

The house was a white, two-story house with a rather quaint porch on the front side of the house. It had nice, large windows which would provide ample light in what she imagined would be the living room and, from the looks of it, also on the first floor of the house.

From what she had seen on the outside of the house, this had definite potential.

There was only one problem. No 'for sale'-sign in sight. Which meant she would probably not be able to see the inside of the house, let alone get to buy the place.

She sighed and took in the faded facade of the house, mumbling to herself.

"Not exactly new," she started, taking in the general state of the house. "Might be interested in selling," she pondered on, losing herself in her inquiring mind. Could she persuade the owner to sell? How much would it cost to re-paint the house? And how long might it take to trim that garden?

"Would take a while, but would be worth the effort," she muttered on, squinting her eyes in an attempt to get a glimpse at what state the large windows by the front porch were in, and if those would be needing replacements.

Her mumbling assessment of the house continued as a man stepped out onto the porch. Not noticing the owner of the house, she continued, mentally calculating costs and expenses, all while failing to notice as the man was making his way towards her car with determined but slow steps, approaching the car as you would a dog whose bite just might be worse than its bark.

It was not until he stood right outside of her car, knocking on her side window, that she was shocked out of her daze and finally realized that she was not alone in her newfound sanctuary.

Well, hopefully soon to be her sanctuary.

Blinking, she looked out of the window where she was met with the torso of a man, clad in a dark grey jacket layered over a plaid button up shirt. Her gaze quickly shot up towards the face of the man who had so abruptly ended her stream of thoughts, and she clumsily grasped towards the handle of the door, feeling embarrassed to have been caught looking at his house through her car window like some sort of creeper. Or axe murderer or something of the sort.

Well done Ashland, surely he's going to want to sell anything to someone he caught lurking on his house like some sort of weirdo, she thought to herself, her mind going through all of the curses she wanted to sprout at being caught like a deer in headlights. Had she seen him first she might have been able to introduce herself and make a good first impression instead of, well, this.

Deciding to keep her curses to herself - the aforementioned first expressions and all - she calmed herself down and grasped one final time towards the door handle.

Finally getting a firm grip, she reluctantly opened the car door to step outside. This was a conversation that was best endured on equal ground. She didn't want to give him any opportunities to look down on her - be it figuratively or literally.

Here we go, she thought, stepping out of the vehicle and putting on her most charming - but not excessively so - smile while preparing herself to dig deep in the magic box of social grace she had going for her, to try and redeem herself in what was looking to be a very awkward situation. Nothing she wouldn't be able to salvage… Hopefully.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to just sit here and stare. I was just looking at your land. Do you have any plans of selling?" she tried bluntly, reluctantly hopeful of two instances: the general outcome of conversation, and the answer to the question.

"No. I'm afraid not," he hesitated, seeming a bit put off at her rather brusque approach. "I like having… Space around me."

"Yeah, I… I understand" she replied hesitantly in disappointment, all pretenses of a happy and charming demeanor gone from her face to be replaced with a resigned calm, as she looked away briefly to assess the land in front of them.

It was a nice and quiet place, and would be ideal for horses. A much more comfortable and relaxing environment than her cramped apartment where the closest thing she came to a garden was the dying potted plant in her living room.

The bleak look of the grey sky and muddy fields was putting her off slightly, but considering the fact that it was mid-autumn it was only natural. It was a far cry from Washington though. But it was no wonder he didn't want to sell this place. It was so tranquil.

"It's nice out here," she said, breaking the short silence, a slight smile lighting up her face at the thought of living on the country like this. It would no doubt be a challenge for her, but this place held just what she needed: a change of pace.

Too bad he's not selling, Ashland thought bitterly. It was probably a long shot anyway.

Shaking her head as if it would physically propel the thoughts out of her head, she ignored the annoying nagging thought in the darker and more negative parts of her mind and put her signature-smile back on her face in the hopes of seeming like less of a creeper. If that wasn't already too late, her negative side quipped, before her more positive side mentally smothered it, and she was able to put her smiling facade back on.

* * *

Will saw the strange woman's face turn blank for a couple of seconds and despite of his empathy, he couldn't really get a good read of her. And then, as soon as the expression had come, it was gone - like she snapped back into reality from whatever thought that had hit her.

It was puzzling. Like reading a book, and then turning to a page that was completely blank, only for the story to pick back up on the next page, leaving you wondering just what the hell the author was thinking. It was both confusing and a tad unsettling.

This woman was a bit of a blank spot on his radar of emotions and motives, and despite how refreshing that would theoretically have been for him it had an annoying side effect of frustrating curiosity. And despite not always being particularly fond of this 'gift' of his, it agitated him to find that he couldn't read her very clearly, even when he was trying.

Not wanting to deal with this bizarre new occurrence of temporary radar-malfunction (because that was surely what it was) Will quickly decided to dismiss both her social blunder and weak attempt to lighten the atmosphere, instead opting for starting a proper conversation with the strange woman, who had somehow found herself parked on his property.

"It has a certain… charm, I suppose. Any specific reason you're looking for land in Wolf Trap? I heard Washington is the more popular alternative. No idea why," the man said, as his eyes shifted towards the muddy fields.

His dry sense of humor had Ashland letting out a small, slightly strained laugh as she knew as well as he did that Wolf Trap was not exactly the dream-area to live in for a young woman like her. She did like the more cultured things in life, no matter how much her messy apartment suggested otherwise - like most females of her age usually did.

"Oh yeah, this place is a real metropolitan area. I mean, why there isn't a Starbucks out here yet, is beyond me," she joked, rubbing her hands together as a cool autumn wind blew by.

She swore it wasn't this cold in the city.

The comment earned her a short chuckle, and a slight smile from the otherwise solemn stranger, which seemed like quite the accomplishment from her current point of view.

Rubbing her hands together one more time, her lips widened into a full grin and she decided now was probably the time to introduce herself.

"Ashland Vodall," she introduced, holding her hand out in greeting. "I'm looking for land as I'm planning on starting up a horse breeding business", she explained as his hand engulfed hers, immediately protecting it from the cold, much to her relief.

"That certainly sounds… like a rather big project. Will Graham, resident dog-collector," he joked again, in that deep, dry tone.

"Then I see why you need the space. Lots of space to roam," Ashland pointed out, taking back her hand to make a general gesture towards the vast amount of space around the two of them.

"For me or the dogs?" he asked, the sliver of a smirk painting itself on his face, as he put his hands back into his pockets, clearly no more immune to the harsh weather than she was.

"Both?" she laughed, mimicking Will and shoving her freezing hands into her pockets.

"Right", he chuckled letting a comfortable silence settle between the two of them.

"You know…" Will started, after a couple of seconds of quiet. "...I was just about to put on some coffee and seeing as you have already discovered that we have yet to have a Starbucks here in Wolf Trap… Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come in for the Wolf Trap take on said franchise?" Will asked, suddenly finding their general surroundings most interesting before settling his gaze nervously on Ashland.

"Provincial Starbucks. Quite the paradox," Ashland remarked with a slightly sarcastic tone to her voice, the smile on her face betraying the humor behind the statement, before continuing "but nonetheless; I'd love a cup of Wolf Trap Starbucks."

He held out his arm towards the house in a 'ladies first' gesture and followed Ashland as she nodded her head slightly and passed him.

'Crisis averted', she thought as she sighed in relief right after having passed Will, unbeknownst to her that Will was doing the exact thing right behind her.

After a few feet Will fell into step with her and sparked the conversation right back up where it had ended not even seconds ago.

"We'd probably have to rename it though. Copyright issues and all."

"Oh, right, they probably wouldn't like you stealing their name and all! How about…" Ashland dragged out, arranging her features into the most dignified thoughtful expression she could muster.

"...Will's Coffee Mill!" Ashland finished, looking half pleased with herself for coming up with a name on a whim, and half ready to burst out into a largely unattractive guffaw at the fact that she had actually managed to come up with a name that rhymed.

"….It rhymes," it came from Will in an amused voice, clearly questioning the name.

"Please, all the best names rhyme" Ashland scoffed, so not impressed with his attitude about the genius, rhyming name she had come up for with him.

"Starbucks Coffee doesn't rhyme," Will answered, raising an eyebrow at her questionable logic.

"And it doesn't even come close to being one of the best names out there," Ashland replied, relishing in their light banter.

"Then I'm sure they wouldn't mind me borrowing their name," came Will's quick retort.

"…I'm still calling this place 'Will's Coffee Mill'," Ashland decided, feeling a bit uncomfortably bold at having skipped over any and all common courtesy regarding the use of his first name, but as long as he didn't seem to mind, she wouldn't either, she decided.

"…I wouldn't really call this place a mill," Will mumbled, looking pointedly around as if to point out the lack of milling facilities in the general area.

"I would't really call this place Starbucks," Ashland muttered back, copying and exaggerating Will's previous actions in jest.

"Does this mean I shouldn't expect you to order a frappuccino?" his dry, sarcastic response came, making Ashland gape amusedly at him, not entirely believing that she had just heard the withdrawn stranger make such a sassily indirect comment about her age and status as 'big town girl'.

"It means I wouldn't expect to get one, even if I ordered one," she quipped back, meeting his challenge head on.

"Are you questioning my ability to make a frappuccino?"

His tone was as mocking as it was teasing.

"No, it means I'm questioning your ability to Starbucks."

A short silence took up the air between the two.

"...Did you just use Starbucks as a verb?"

"…Maybe."

The silence stretched between the two again as Will opened the front door before stepping inside, leaving the door open for Ashland to enter the house.

"Right… Coffee?" Will asked, sliding out of his jacket just as Ashland stepped over the threshold of the door.

"Two sugars, a splash of milk."


	2. Déception

Thank you the amazing feedback I have already gotten on this story! You guys rock!

When you read this chapter, keep in mind, that Hannibal is a manipulative little shit, who will do and say just about anything to get his way. Or, just remember that in general when it comes to Hannibal Lecter.

Beta: NemiNightingale

* * *

Closing the door to her apartment she turned around and leaned against the door, a small smile painting her lips.

She had officially made her first friend in Washington. Well, technically Will lived in Wolf Trap, but what was the point in getting technical about it? A friend was a friend. Or perhaps more of an acquaintance so far, but one with definite potential for friendship. After all, Will had more or less invited her over for Wolf Trap Starbucks coffee whenever she felt like coming around to 'try to convince him to sell the old place' as he had so delicately put it.

Even though she knew he was definitely not selling. No amount of persuasion, would convince him to sell the house, and that was what put Will Graham in the definite friend-potential section. He had granted her an excuse to visit, meaning he _wanted_ her to visit.

And she could hardly wait.

* * *

Will had been more than amused the next time Ashland had shown up at his house, checkbook optimistically (and a bit ironically) in one hand, while the other mockingly grasped a bag of Starbucks coffee.

"You shouldn't have," Will said in that flat tone of voice Ashland was coming to recognize as being sarcastically amused.

"I know," Ashland replied in an annoyingly chipper voice. "I'm not sure what you put in the Wolf Trap brand of Starbucks, but it kind of needed a boost," she provoked, thoroughly enjoying how one of his eyebrows shot up at the quip at his coffee. He was so predictable sometimes.

"Two sugars and a splash of milk, if I remember correctly," Will shot back in the cool and collected way of a _very_ self-assured man.

"There's nothing wrong with my coffee preferences, dear Will," she answered lightly, pushing the bag of coffee to his chest as she stepped past him to walk into the house.

"There's nothing wrong with my coffee," he said, sounding slightly affronted, before closing the door behind her, following her through the house into kitchen.

"I beg to differ," Ashland teased in a sing-song voice, inwardly snickering as it seemed to greatly annoy him when she was being unreasonably cheerful.

"You're worse than Hannibal," Will mumbled, inspecting the siren-logo on the overpriced coffee. Ashland scrunched her nose in confusion at the name. It sounded like a dog's name. Why would he be referring to a dog?

"Hanni-who?" she asked.

Did he have a new dog? He really needed to tell her if he had a new dog.

"Never mind."

Okay, no new dog then.

"Anyways, you're the one who's been boasting about practically being in the Starbucks franchise," Ashland explained, picking the conversation back up from where Will had trailed off. "I'm just making sure you're keeping up to standard," she reasoned, sending a quick wink at Will at the exasperated look he was sending her.

"Are we really still talking about that?"

"What would you prefer to talk about then? The weather?"

"Yes, it's terrible," Will drawled, clearly not very interested in the weather. "How about you tell me about yourself," he demanded more than asked, having quickly dismissed the tedious topic of the constant overcast weather in Washington in favor of satisfying his curiosity. He had yet to figure out why she was a blank spot on his radar, and he intended to find out.

Ashland shrugged.

"There isn't much to know," she warned, not wanting to bore him with the mundane details of her, so far, rather short life.

"Then I'm sure you won't mind telling me," he reasoned, pushing for information about her. Perhaps the answer to all of his questions lay in her past.

"Well, I just moved here..."

* * *

The next couple of months passed like the previous visits, with Ashland showing up uninvited on Will Graham's doorstep, a checkbook - which never found purpose - in hand. Sarcastic quips and comments were exchanged in place of pleasantries, and every time they learned just a little bit more about each other.

The name Hannibal was not uttered after that day, but that was about to change.

* * *

It was a dreary day as always in Wolf Trap. The winter air was crisp and refreshing, but the perpetual dusk left much to be desired.

It was on this day that Ashland had decided to visit Will, thinking he needed a good cheering up. The past couple of weeks he had seemed to have been in an even darker state of mind than he usually was, which was not boding entirely well, considering how he under normal circumstances had a slightly dark and bordering on depressing outlook on life. No matter how positive Will tried to be, Ashland could easily see it for what it was: a facade, a wall, a mask, a fog; obscuring the view for what was really hiding underneath.

Sometimes it unnerved her, but mostly it drew her in. Like most of her gender, the darkness brought out a maternal side in her, a need to nurture and to help. But despite these urges, Ashland knew she wouldn't be able to save Will from whatever was troubling him; only he would be able to do that, but she could be there for him while he was troubled. And be there she would.

It was with this thought in mind that she sped down the road to Will's house, another coffee-related gift sitting neatly on the passenger seat. One he didn't really need, would probably never use, and was actually much to expensive for her to be splurging on: coffee syrup. But the skeptically amused look on Will's face whenever Ashland innocently handed him a prank-gift with a neat silk bow wrapped around it was more than enough to make up for the cost of whatever she brought him.

She was humming as she pulled into the gravel driveway that led up to Will's house, in a good mood at the prospect of seeing her favorite dog-collector again. Normally, as the house came into view, Ashland would be focused on the settings of Will Graham's home, basking in the homely feel of the place. But this time, as the house came into view, her focus was swiftly shifted elsewhere.

She kept her eyes on the car in front of Will's house as she slowed down, parking behind the vehicle she had yet to take her eyes off and stepped outside, approaching the car with measured steps.

The object of her attention was what seemed to be a black Bentley looking distinctly out of place in its surroundings, much too fine and expensive to be parked in front of the quaint farmhouse. But the car's obvious expensiveness was not the only thing to put Ashland on edge. Will had never before during any of her visits had any other visitors than her. She knew he had other friends, of course. She wasn't naive enough to believe she was the only one, but somehow the physical evidence of Will Graham interacting with other people, was unsettling her. Given his standoffish attitude, Ashland figured Will was quite the lone wolf. He didn't exactly thrive on sociability.

Even though Ashland knew it was probably best leaving Will alone to deal with whatever person had showed up at his door, she couldn't help thinking back on her thoughts in the car. She had promised herself she would be there for him, and helping Will Graham did not involve running away with her tail between her legs at the first sign of trouble.

_'Head up, chest out'_, she reminded herself and straightened up, walking towards the front door, her steps now strong and confident.

As she stepped onto the porch, a man - who was most definitely _not_ Will Graham - strode out of the door, meeting her gaze straight on.

"Oh, hello," Ashland said in surprise, trying to mask her perplexed expression at the sight of the unnaturally immaculate person now standing in front of her. She gave him a quick once-over, taking in his impressive stature and unconventionally good looks.

His hair was neatly parted to the side, and his undoubtedly expensive suit was impeccably put together and perfectly pressed. She couldn't help but marvel at the exquisiteness of the almost otherworldly man in front of her.

And neither could she help but notice that he looked just as out of place here as the expensive car he drove.

"I don't believe we have met. My name is Hannibal Lecter, you must be Miss Vodall," he answered in a thick, indistinguishable accent, holding out a large hand in greeting.

"Will has told me a lot about you," Hannibal continued as Ashland smiled a light, but slightly strained smile while taking his hand.

He seemed like trouble.

"Indeed. Oh, he has? Should I be nervous?" she inquired in a slightly teasing tone, trying to conceal her very real nervousness. He was quite the impressive man, and his imposing figure was making her slightly unnerved, which was odd. Normally she thrived in the presence of other people, and especially connoisseurs such as the elegant man in front of her. Something was… off. Whether it was him as a person that had her flustered or the fact that he had clearly just been in Will Graham's house she wasn't certain of.

"Not at all, Will has been most generous in his praises of you," the stranger replied, closing the door behind him while reaching into his pocket. He withdrew a small key and turned around, locking the door before swiftly turning back to face her.

He had a key, meaning he had been in Will Graham's house without Will Graham in it. _Definitely_ the latter option then.

"I am pleased to finally meet you in person. Will has somehow managed - and quite successfully if I may add - to keep me at a distance when it comes to you. I am most curious about you, Miss Vodall," he continued, putting Ashland in a further state of unsettlement.

Will had talked about her? And to _this_ person of all people?

"Curious?" Ashland asked before further mumbling a short "I see," before swiftly keeping up the conversation.

"I must admit, I am flattered. I did not know Will had spoken so fondly of me, or even spoken of me at all. If I may ask, how do you know Will?"

"I am his psychiatrist," came the answer; one that had Ashland momentarily at a loss for words.

Will wasn't exactly the type of person to seek help from others, especially not when it came to such personal and delicate matters as the topic of his psyche.

"I wasn't aware he was in the need of a psychiatrist," Ashland replied shortly, making her underlying message clear: _Does Will think he needs a psychiatrist?_

"I believe there is a lot you are not aware of, Miss Vodall," Hannibal said, answering her underlying question: _No, he doesn't, but someone else does._

_'Interesting'_

"I am not under the illusion that I know everything going on in Will's life," she acknowledged, the sentence translating easily to the unspoken conversation they were having: _What do you know that I don't?_

A short silence spread between them at the unspoken comment, signaling that there was indeed a lot Ashland did not know about their mutual friend.

"You should come to dinner. I always enjoy cooking for a new audience," Hannibal suddenly offered, the underlying promise of more information about Will shining clearly through the seemingly innocent offer.

"Is that an invitation?"

* * *

Will was sitting in one of the waiting chairs outside of the office as the door opened, revealing Hannibal and one of his previous appointments.

"Then I will see you next week, Franklyn."

Hannibal turned towards Will, ignoring Franklyn as he passed. Franklyn hesitated before walking out of the door, shooting one final look of jealousy at Will before leaving him alone with Hannibal. He was the man who had taken Hannibal from him. He would hardly ever look at him anymore. Not that Hannibal had ever been very attentive to Franklyn's need for companionship, but now that this guy was here Hannibal just ignored Franklyn as soon as they stepped foot out of the office.

"Will. Do you have an appointment?" Hannibal questioned, watching Will standing from the chair he was previously sitting stiffly in.

"No, I just needed to…" Will trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He didn't really know why he was there; he just knew that he _needed_ to be.

"Luckily, I have a cancellation," Hannibal answered, holding his door open for Will to pass him. "I would suggest to call ahead the next time," Hannibal said in a light tone, suggesting he did not really mind Will's surprise visit much. And as far as Will could see, the doctor had not looked surprised in the slightest at seeing Will in the waiting-room, as if he had expected to see him there.

Will shook the thoughts out of his head. Hannibal couldn't possibly have known he would be here.

Closing the door after Will, Hannibal followed Will into the center of the room, silently gesturing for him to take a seat while he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down on the seat opposite Will.

"You don't look too surprised I'm here," Will stated with suspicion, a questioning tone coloring his statement.

"I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon," Hannibal answered enigmatically.

"Why?"

"You really must introduce me to Miss Vodall," came Hannibal's evasive answer.

So this was about Ashland.

"What does me being here have to do with her?" Will questioned, instantly going into a defensive position at the mention of Ashland. She was a bit of a sore point for him, and her being brought up made Will feel like Hannibal was deliberately poking a sore bruise.

_'I suppose that is what good psychiatrists do; poke at mental bruises'_, Will thought, feeling annoyed with Hannibal's inquisitive nature all of a sudden. If the skill of a psychiatrist was measured in their ability to bring up unwanted topics, then Hannibal would be the best one out there.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Will. You speak of her so often, I merely wish to meet the woman who has you captivated," Hannibal asserted.

"What, so you can psychoanalyze her too?"

"I only wish to know what effect she has on you, but the fact that you are here speaks louder than anything I could possibly observe between you and Miss Vodall," Hannibal stated, sitting back into his chair with one leg crossed over the other as Will mirrored him, sitting back stiffly.

"Ashland. Her name is… Ashland," Will pointed out in a slightly strained voice. 'Miss Vodall' made her sound so… young.

"Perhaps it is time we finally talk about your mother," Hannibal said, seemingly letting Will off the hook and changing the subject.

"Again with the lazy psychiatry, Doctor Lecter," Will muttered, finally letting down his shoulders a bit at the change in subject, allowing himself to relax into the comfortable leather chair.

"It being lazy does not make it any less insightful," Hannibal pointed out diplomatically.

Will tensed visibly as he realized what Hannibal was getting at. He hadn't changed the subject.

"I fail to see how a mother complex could have anything to do with Ashland. She is younger than me," Will pointed out, failing to see Hannibal's point, but knowing he most likely had one. He usually had a theory lined up whenever he approached a subject like this.

"You care for her. You seek her approval," the psychiatrist stated, looking Will in the eyes, daring him to deny it.

"Am I _that_ transparent?" Will asked sarcastically. He was really not in the mood to have this sort of conversation with Hannibal.

"No, but your troubles have been getting steadily worse after having met Miss Vodall. I am worried you are only seeing her to appease a need for female acceptance," Hannibal continued, stubbornly pushing his point.

"Could just have been the increasing amount of murders Jacks sends me off to look at. The crime scenes aren't exactly PG-rated," Will reasoned. "Why are you assuming I have a need for female acceptance?"

"I know trouble pertaining to women when I see it," Hannibal replied ambiguously, making Will pause before answering. Ashland wasn't _trouble_, was she? She didn't seem like it, even though she _was_ partly to blame for his recently troubled mind.

"What do you suggest, _Doctor_," Will asked, not certain about what Hannibal was getting at. What did he want him to do about it?

"That you stop worrying," Hannibal answered "And perhaps talk to me about your mother," he added cheekily, already knowing the answer to that request before he had even voiced the inquiry.

"I am not talking to you about my mother," Will stated calmly. That was just not going to happen, no matter how many times Hannibal asked. "And it's not like I can just turn off a switch," Will added. "You of all people should know that the human psyche doesn't work like that," he continued, before mumbling a quiet "I would have done it long ago if it did," to himself.

"If you will not talk to me, then I suggest you go straight to the source of your worries," Hannibal concluded, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs.

"You're suggesting I tell her," Will stated, mirroring Hannibal and leaning forward to rest his elbows right above his knees, drawing a hand to his face, trying to hide his frustrations behind his hand as his mask of indifference was cracking.

The prospect of talking to Ashland about his feelings was daunting at best.

"Not necessarily, but if that is what will help you clear your mind, then that is what you must do."

"And you're an expert on love all of a sudden?" Will asked. He dragged his hand down his face and let both his arms rest on his legs in a mirror of Hannibal, looking at him skeptically.

"I strive to be an expert on whatever separates humans from animals. Including, but not limited to love. And of course our distinctively good taste," Hannibal replied in a light and slightly teasing tone, gesturing towards the general surroundings of his study.

"Yes, I suspect you wouldn't find this sort of interior design in a fox den."

"I suppose that is lucky for the sheep. It would be far too easy to lure them in."

* * *

Ashland hesitated outside of Hannibal Lecter's house. She was nervous. After Hannibal had invited her for dinner the other day, they had decided on her coming over the day after, as Ashland wanted to get it over with. She didn't say that, of course, that would be rude, but she wanted to know what he wasn't telling her about Will, and she didn't want to wait any longer before finding out.

On one hand, she felt bad about going behind his back and talking to his psychiatrist about him, but on the other hand, he never really talked much about himself, even though he pretty much knew her life story by now. And it wasn't because she didn't ask - she did - he was just a very private person and was generally very evasive whenever she asked him about himself. She hadn't realized it before now, but as she stood outside Hannibal Lecter's house she came to the realization that it annoyed her. It annoyed her that Will wouldn't confide in her. And that annoyance had driven her to accept Mr. Lecter's dinner proposal, even though what she wanted most of all was to turn around and leave.

No matter how guilty she was supposed to be for doing this, she really couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. Not when Will was unwittingly making her do stupid stuff by staying silent and keeping her in the dark.

_'I will never know what is wrong if I don't take this into my own hands. And if I don't know what's wrong, I won't be able to help him,'_ Ashland reasoned, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. She took a step back, releasing a shaky breath before the door opened, revealing the handsome Hannibal Lecter in a fine dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, and he was wearing an apron, making him look substantially less intimidating than he had looked the day they had first met. She liked this more approachable demeanor, despite her appreciation of a well-tailored suit. But, despite looking more approachable, it didn't put Ashland at ease. It seemed she would forever be uncomfortable in Doctor Lecter's presence.

"Good evening Doctor Lecter," she said pleasantly.

"Good evening, Miss Vodall, please do come in," he said, stepping to the side to allow her into his home.

She gave him a slight smile, stepping past him into the entrance hall.

He silently took her coat and hung it on a coat stand beside the door, walking towards a door leading towards the rest of the house and gesturing for her to follow him.

"I see you have exquisite taste when it comes to interior design," she commented, as they passed through the rooms. Everything he owned seemed to be so modern, yet with a classical twist. What she wouldn't give to have a house like this.

"Thank you. Though I do believe my tastes are far more exquisite when it comes to the culinary arts. But you will have a chance to be the judge of that in just a few short minutes," Hannibal answered as they entered the dining room where a table was set for two. "Please, take a seat," he added, holding out a chair for her.

"Thank you," Ashland said quietly, as she sat down in the offered chair, looking over the table that was set in front of her. It didn't surprise her that the table was set with several very expensive-looking flower arrangements and a multitude of wine glasses and plates. She looked up again as she noticed Hannibal rolling down his sleeves, and lifting a wine glass from the table, pouring in a blood red wine, suggesting they would be having something along the lines of beef or something else equally rich in taste.

She nodded at him in thanks as she lifted the glass from his hands, taking in the aroma of the wine before taking a small sip. It was good. Very good. Of course it was.

At her look of approval, Hannibal vanished out a door she had yet to enter, probably to finish dinner. She caught a short glimpse of what did indeed look to be the kitchen before the door closed behind him, and settled back in the chair, satisfied to just sit there and quietly sip wine until dinner was served. It was a luxury she wasn't used to, and one she couldn't normally afford. So what if it was with an unnerving psychiatrist? She was going to enjoy this, she decided.

He came back into the room a couple of minutes later, now with his suit jacket back on, and with a plate in each hand.

He set down a plate in front of her, afterwards setting his own down by his seat opposite her before sitting down by his plate.

"It looks delicious," Ashland complimented, in complete awe of the meal in front of her. It looked mouthwatering and like a piece of art, all at the same time. "What are we having?" she questioned, finally getting control over her salivating mouth.

"Filet mignon with a balsamic glaze and steamed asparagus," Hannibal answered, a slight smile on his lips at the look of pure awe painted on Ashland's face.

Few words were said as they ate. It seemed Hannibal was not going to make this easy for her. It took 10 minutes of silence, with no words filling the air but the customary "It tastes amazing," before Hannibal decided he wanted to start the conversation Ashland had been waiting for since Hannibal had opened the front door to greet her.

His first words shocked her.

"Will is quite infatuated with you."

"Excuse me?" Ashland asked, in complete shock after almost choking on the small sip of wine she had so unwisely decided to take just as Hannibal decided to speak up.

He didn't dignify her question with an answer, knowing fully well she had heard him, given her reaction.

"Infatuated? And may I ask how you know that, Doctor Lecter?" Ashland continued, as she realized that she had indeed heard him right, and would not be receiving an answer unless she said something.

"He told me. We talk quite frequently, if you remember Miss Vodall," came Hannibal's answer, as he casually looked down on his plate, cutting out a small piece of filet mignon.

"I do remember Doctor Lecter. Though I am surprised you are telling me this. I was under the impression you have a doctor-patient confidentiality agreement you have to uphold as a psychiatrist," she subtly accused. Well, perhaps not so subtly. But compared to the very bold statement Hannibal had just made she could easily classify her accusation as subtle.

"Of course. This was not told under the confidentiality between a doctor and his patient, but rather during a conversation between friends," he answered, not rising to her bait, and calmly but firmly disregarding the accusation.

"With all due respect, Doctor Lecter, I am his friend too. I believe he would have told me if he felt this way," Ashland said, setting down the wine glass she just realized she was still grasping tightly.

"As I have expressed earlier, there is a lot you do not know about Will. Under these circumstances I thought it prudent to inform you that Will has a fragile mind," Hannibal answered, getting right to the point.

_'Finally we're getting somewhere'_, Ashland thought in relief, focusing all of her attention on the man in front of her.

"He has what you would call pure empathy," Hannibal continued, stopping his explanation for a second to see if she was following.

"Go on, please," Ashland urged on.

She wasn't quite following, but she figured Hannibal to be a very thorough person when explaining things and would question him later if need be.

"Every single word we speak, every choice we make, all contributes to how the world perceives us, and reflects how we perceive it; Will is simply better at interpreting these signs. He understands emotions and intentions better than anyone I have ever met or even heard of," Hannibal continued, proving her suspicion right. With Hannibal doing the explaining, she would not leave this house uninformed, that was for sure.

"If I may ask, why are you telling me all this?" Ashland asked. There didn't seem to be a logical reason for him to tell her. After all, she was just Will's friend, and a pretty newly appointed one at that.

"Will's mind is very vulnerable, and as his friend I merely seek to inform you of what you should expect, should you choose to enter a relationship with Will," Hannibal elaborated.

Had Ashland been drinking anything, she would have choked again as he mentioned the word 'relationship' in the same sentence as Will Graham. He didn't seem like the type to date. Anyone. Ever.

He seemed to be the type of person to grow old alone, with no one but his dogs to keep him company.

"As his psychiatrist however, I ask you to reconsider your relationship with Will. He does not need anymore worries than he already has, and a stable environment is detriment to ensure he remains stable," Hannibal continued, yet again shocking her with his bluntness. This guy didn't beat around the bush, did he?

"Which you don't believe I can provide him with," Ashland stated flatly, very much insulted at his assumptions.

Who was he to say that she couldn't give him a stable environment? He didn't even know her! Okay, so no, she hadn't really given much thought to being in a relationship with Will, as they had only known each other for a couple of months, but that didn't mean she hadn't _imagined_ it once… or twice. Will Graham was an attractive man, any woman in her situation would have thought about it. And now that his psychiatrist pretty much told her to stay away from Will, her defiant side decided to show itself.

"While I know Will, I do not know you, Miss Vodall. Which is why I merely ask you to consider your relationship. It is not my place to ask you to leave Will alone, but as his friend I only want what is best for Will, as I am sure you do too," Hannibal elaborated, but the damage was already done. He might as well just have tried to save the conversation with a meek 'it was a joke' or 'no offense', but both knew he was very serious, and did mean at least a bit of offense. He seemed oddly possessive of Will, for one reason or another.

_'Perhaps he's gay'_, she reasoned. It would make sense, with his clean, handsome looks and interest in interior design.

"Of course," she answered stiffly, deeply intent on staying very close to Will from now on. Hannibal Lecter would not win this fight. She did not care if she was coming between Hannibal and his man-crush, she would not be bullied away from her only friend in the whole state of Virginia.

"But how can you be so sure Will hasn't already told me about this... gift of his?" Ashland replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Will is not a person who willingly asks for help, no matter how much he may need it. If I know him as well as I believe I do, then I doubt he has told you anything about his condition," Hannibal met the challenge right on.

_'Ouch.'_

"And I do not believe you would have agreed to have dinner here tonight, had I not had information about Will," Hannibal finished off, finally deciding to eat the last, thin slice of filet mignon on his plate, effectively ending the short discussion.

"You're very perceptive," she remarked stiffly, looking slightly uncomfortable at the fact that he definitely knew she wasn't too fond of him.

"And you are very protective of Will. A trait you share with the other woman in Will's life," it came from Hannibal, giving yet another very clear signal for her that he knew Will better than she did. Better than she probably ever would.

She said nothing, but merely raised an eyebrow in question.

"I told you, there is a lot you do not know about Will Graham, Miss Vodall."


	3. Alléchant

I have countless excuses for why the chapter is late, but I doubt you would want to hear them, so I will spare you. Fact is this chapter was a very hard and long chapter for me to write.

I hope you'll enjoy it though, there's a reason it took a long time to write ;-)

Just a warning, the next chapter is the last one before the sequel, and it will be very short. Which means a quick update, but a short one.

Beta: NemiNightingale

* * *

Ashland needed to think. After the awkward dinner with Hannibal she didn't know how to approach Will. Now that she knew so much about him that she probably shouldn't know, she suddenly didn't know how to talk to him. She felt like she needed to tell him about going to Hannibal for information, but she didn't want to jeopardize the easy-going friendship they had so far. So for two weeks, she stayed at home, going over all the different ways she could bring up the topic to Will. Whenever she practiced what she would say, somehow the only sentence she ever managed to stutter out, however cliché it may be, was 'We need to talk'. And no conversation starting with that fated sentence had ever, in the entire history of the earth, ended well. It gave her so many relationship associations that it almost had her wondering whether she was there to talk to Will about her prying into his business or to break up with him.

"No, that sounds stupid," she reasoned, going over yet another casual sentence to fling at Will, to encroach upon the topic she needed to talk to him about. Everything came out so forced, and not at all as casual as she was going for.

Two weeks, and she had come up with diddly squat. Absolutely nothing. Not even a single word. Even the word 'Hi' seemed strange to her, now that she knew much more about Will than he probably wanted her to. What was she supposed to say?

"Hi, I talked to your psychiatrist about your mental health, earl grey please"? "Doctor Lecter says you're cray cray, two sugars, a splash of milk"?

Yeah, so not casual. How do you do casual like that?

_Why_ was this so hard?

Ashland released an annoyed sigh as she threw herself onto the couch. This was going nowhere.

Simmering in silent frustration, she stared at the ceiling in displeasure.

_'What am I doing?'_ she wondered to herself. _'This is just Will, why am I hiding from him?'_

And she didn't have an answer. Other than being a bit of a coward about the whole situation, she genuinely didn't know why she was avoiding Will. Was she somehow worried that he would kick her out of his life as soon as he found out she had been snooping?

_'Perhaps I **am** worried of this turning into a break up,'_ she thought, not liking the idea that perhaps she had grown just a bit more attached to Will Graham than she had initially thought.

"We really need to talk," Ashland mumbled, groaning at what she knew she had to do; with or without a speech prepared.

* * *

He was getting worried. Normally Ashland never went more than a week without visiting him (more like 3-4 days, if he were to be completely honest with himself) and it had him on edge. Two weeks is a long time if all you have to keep yourself company are dogs and the FBI crew. Especially the FBI crew had him high-strung, considering the circumstances under which they always met; it wasn't exactly fun and games they were up to.

But Will wouldn't call. He couldn't. That would only prove the point Hannibal had been trying to make. That Will was _in love_, and that being in love with Ashland was a problem. It couldn't be a problem, so Will dealt with it the only way he could; by ignoring the so-called problem.

So the void unknowingly created by Ashland he filled with Hannibal Lecter.

What Will wasn't expecting was for Ashland to show up, right as said psychiatrist was visiting.

* * *

For the second time in a very short amount of time, Ashland pulled up beside Hannibal Lecter's car, groaning at the prospect of having to face both the FBI profiler and the psychiatrist at the same time. This really wasn't turning out to be her day.

Even though she wanted to turn the car around and drive back home to come back another day, Ashland got a hold of herself and turned the key in the ignition, cutting off the engine. Steeling herself for what looked to be a catastrophic meeting, she took a deep breath, grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car to make her way towards the house.

It was pouring outside, a thing that didn't help her dwindling confidence about facing Will, but forced her to rush to Will's door, giving her less time to rethink what she was about to do. She knocked as soon as she was within reach of the door, not wanting to postpone the inevitable, and wanting to get inside as quickly as possible. It was as cold as the first day they met.

Ashland stood there for a hellishly long minute, within which she almost managed to convince herself he wasn't home. She had gone as far as turning around to leave, only to calm herself down and recognize the fact that Hannibal Lecter's car would not be outside of Will's house, if Will wasn't home.

_'Unless it's like that time when Hannibal was checking on Will's dogs when Will was away. He could be away, I should probably-'_ was all Ashland managed to think, before the door creaked open, revealing a startled Will Graham.

Silence.

"Hello Will," Ashland said after a few seconds, in a hesitant and sheepish voice, clearly conveying her feelings of shame for her absence.

"Ashland," Will stated, confused with her sudden presence after two whole weeks of silence on her part. He was mostly confused by her absence, but after having waited so long he had almost managed to convince himself she wouldn't be back.

"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" she asked, looking over his shoulder into Will's living room where Hannibal Lecter stood, looking right back at her.

Recovering from his confusion, Will snapped back into reality and realized that it was, indeed, a bad time. He really didn't want Ashland to meet Hannibal; a meeting between the two would provide his psychiatrist with ample material to last him months in the consulting room, and months of talking about Ashland with Hannibal was a thought deeply unappealing to Will.

But seeing as he hadn't seen Ashland for two weeks, something had to be bothering her, and if he turned her away now he wasn't sure when she would be back, if ever.

"Feel free to come in, if you don't mind me having visitors," came Will's slow response as he gestured with his head towards his the man behind him.

A part of him desperately wished she would decline the invitation, yet an increasingly dominant part of him wanted her to stay. He wanted to tell her. Perhaps following Hannibal's advice would do him some good. Surely, telling her how he felt would take some of the pressure away, lightening the load of worries pressing on his already strained psyche.

Perhaps he _should_ tell her.

Unknowing of his dilemma, Ashland was in the same situation. Desperately wanting to stay, and even more desperately feeling the need to go, yet completely unable to do so. Even though this was a conversation she desperately didn't want to be having, least of all with Hannibal Lecter in the house, she knew she wouldn't be able to muster up the courage to come back here, if she didn't tell him now.

So she would stay.

"Of course I don't mind you having guests, Will," Ashland answered, a strained smile twisted on her lips, as she saw Will's shoulders tense at her acceptance of his invitation.

Hesitating for a second, Will stepped away from the doorway, creating an opening for Ashland to enter.

"This is Hannibal Lecter," Will started, gesturing towards Hannibal "He's a... colleague of mine," Will hesitated, deciding not to classify him as his psychiatrist. He wasn't sure Ashland was entirely ready to handle knowing about his… quirks. Coupled with the fact that he was planning on confessing his feelings for her, he felt that it wouldn't be a good idea to drop two bombs at once; She would have enough trouble dealing with one as it was.

_'Real trusting of you, Will,'_ Ashland thought with a hint of bitterness. He was really not making it easy for her. Had he just introduced Hannibal as his psychiatrist, the transition into the troublesome topic would have been much smoother. But nooooo.

"Yes, we are both currently working with the FBI," Hannibal elaborated, holding his hand out in greeting, as if they had yet to be introduced to each other.

_'Oh goodie, now he's ready to bend the truth for me. Thanks Hannibal, Will, you two are just set on making this hard for me,'_ Ashland's inner voice complained. She couldn't decide whether she was grateful to Hannibal for playing pretend, as it would provide her with an excuse not to tell Will about their little meeting, or annoyed with him for making this situation into a massive verbal obstacle course for her.

She was leaning towards the latter.

Extending her hand towards him, she made up her mind.

"Ashland Vodall, nice to meet you," she greeted, following Doctor Lecter's lead.

Obstacle course it was.

"Hannibal Lecter," he returned the greeting, continuing in an echo of their first introduction not too long ago. "Will has told me all about you," he said, withdrawing his hand from hers.

"Hopefully only good things," Ashland joked, looking teasingly over at Will, who seemed to have loosened up his shoulders a bit at their casual conversation.

"Nothing but," Hannibal smiled, picking up on the déjà vu in the situation.

"You've told him about me, Will?" Ashland asked, a teasing voice accompanying the wink she sent him to let him know of the gentle jab she was taking at him.

"_Everything_ would be a gross exaggeration," Will corrected in the closest thing he came to a joking voice around Hannibal Lecter.

"You're too modest, Will. I believe I have sufficient notes for a biography," Hannibal disagreed, a teasing smile that Ashland imagined would disarm most women out there, playing on his thin lips.

And it did disarm her, just not in the way it would most women. She was a bit flattered that Will had talked about her, but the fact that it was about _everything_ and with _Hannibal Lecter_ alarmed her in ways she couldn't entirely interpret.

But then again, after her dinner with Hannibal, she technically shouldn't be too appalled; that would be the pot calling the kettle black.

* * *

Fortunately, Hannibal seemed to know why Ashland was at the cosy farmhouse, and politely excused himself soon after introductions had been concluded, clearly not interested in becoming entangled in the strange and complicated affairs of Will Graham and Ashland Vodall.

Not entirely knowing how to approach the situation yet - thank you very much, Hannibal Lecter - she decided that the best approach would probably be to calm Will down from their conversation with the psychiatrist. He seemed oddly absent, focused on something invisible to her eyes, and what better way to summon his mental presence back to her than their usual banter and a cup of coffee.

Ashland walked into the kitchen followed by Will, who decided to stare out the window, focusing on the rain, which left Ashland to start preparing the coffee.

"So," Ashland started, tasting the words carefully as she put over a medium roast brew, before continuing. "Mr. Lecter seems to have yet to sample your _very_ outstanding Starbucks coffee."

Reacting on the familiarity of the situation, Will snapped back into the world of the living and looked at Ashland as if he had completely forgotten she was there. His eyes shifted, and he blankly took in the brewing coffee.

_'Did Ashland put that on?'_ he wondered, having been in his own world for a bit. He had been trying to figure out how to bring up the topic of 'love' in their conversation, and somehow the sentence 'we need to talk' seemed too banal and overused for this particular type of exchange. Well, it was usually used in breakups, which usually had something to do with love. Of course, if this conversation didn't go as he hoped, their situation could very well be reminiscent of a breakup.

No, 'we need to talk' wasn't an option.

Getting himself together, he replied: "Yes, Hannibal is a bit too…" Will hesitated, as he looked for a word that would fittingly describe Hannibal Lecter. Finding the word he thought matched Hannibal's demeanor, Will continued: "...refined, for Starbucks coffee."

A snort came from Ashland. Everybody she knew enjoyed a good cup of Starbucks coffee. Granted, none of her friends were as 'refined' as Doctor Lecter. No one she had ever known had ever been as refined as Hannibal Lecter's pinky finger, let alone his entire being. That didn't mean you could be _too refined_ though, unless you were the Queen of England or something like that. And Hannibal Lecter sure didn't look like the Queen of England.

"Nobody is ever too refined for Starbucks. Too pretentious, however," she said, innocently raising her eyebrows as she looked away, pretending her comment was a general statement and not a personal jab at Will's psychiatrist.

They both knew better.

Will just raised an eyebrow while trying, and failing, to hide an amused smirk at her antics.

"So Hannibal Lecter is too... pretentious for you?" he asked, now not even bothering to hide his amusement.

"Now, now, I never said that," Ashland corrected, leaning against the counter to point an accusing finger at Will at his assumption. His very correct assumption. Not that he needed to know that.

"So you _like_ Hannibal?" Will asked, with a slight bitter tone to his words, emphasizing the word 'like' for a more than friendly alternative to the meaning of the word, catching Ashland severely off guard.

"Uh, what?" she grunted out, in a very undignified manner.

"Well, the stereotype dark, tall and handsome seems to attract a lot of women," Will added to his previous sentence, elaborating in a very matter-of-fact voice.

"I prefer my men tall, dark and unpretentious, thank you very much," Ashland answered, getting herself together enough to reply in a very posh and pretend dignified manner.

She really needed to work on her pokerface if she were to be around men like Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. They had a way of causing her to be in a constant state of bewilderment.

"Do you think I'm pretentious?" Will asked quietly, walking casually towards Ashland as she unwillingly let out yet another disbelieving snort at his question.

"Please, Will, you're as unpretentious as they come," she said, waving his question off.

_'Will. Pretentious. Those two words don't even belong in the same sentence,'_ she thought to herself, amused he would even bring it up.

"A breath of fresh air, really," she added, trying to smother the wide smile that was threatening to come out.

"Really?" Will questioned, taking yet a stop closer, overstepping the boundaries of the personal space he was usually very careful to maintain.

"Really," Ashland replied, her voice portraying a slightly flat tone, and her amusement dimming a bit as she noticed how close Will suddenly was. It occurred to her that he was acting very strangely. First he got all jealous boyfriend on her, and now he was asking about her opinion of him, while closing in on her like a predator would on its prey.

Very confrontational and unlike Will.

He didn't answer as he took a final step towards her, bringing them within inches of each other. He leaned closer, towering over her.

He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face. She swallowed audibly, her mouth having very suddenly dried out at the unexpected closeness of her friend and the not entirely subtle smell of his aftershave.

_'Hmm, old spice.'_

"Really?" Will repeated.

His words, rough and a little too loud to be a whisper, were spoken into her ear, his breath teasing her skin, making a deep and previously unknown need blossom in her stomach.

"Really," she breathed out, feeling hot and light-headed as his hair brushed lightly against her cheekbone.

As if being able to read her mind, he turned his face, looking deeply into her darkened eyes and lightly brushed his lips against hers, hesitating in order to test her reaction towards his affection.

She almost reached up to cup his cheek and pull him down for a real kiss, but stopped herself before she could. She hadn't told him about going behind his back to Hannibal. She couldn't do this to him. And she couldn't do this to herself.

She needed to get out of there.

Ashland released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and turned her face away from Will's, pushing herself away from the counter and storming out of the room with her head down, desperately avoiding getting eye contact with Will as she passed him.

She could hear him call after her, but she ignored it as she hurried through the living room, tore open the door and ran out into the rain, leaving the door to smack after her with a resounding bang.

* * *

"Stupid", Will mumbled to himself as he braced himself on his forearms against the door, his forehead touching lightly against the wood in front of him.

He knew he shouldn't have done what he did. Of course she would react like that - it really should have come as no surprise. After all, he was more than 10 years older than her. What could she possibly want with an old man like him? And a broken man at that, too.

And he had more than likely sprung this upon her at the worst possible time. After all, she had been avoiding him for two whole weeks, so she must have had something troubling her that more than likely pertained to him.

He had probably ruined every single chance of friendship the two had had for the future.

A frustrated sigh came from him as he lightly brought his forehead back a few inches, only to smack it lightly against the door again.

"Stupid", he grumbled to himself again, and closed his eyes as if it would somehow take him away to a different place, a place where he didn't have to live with the fact that he had just driven one of his closest friends out the door with an indubitably misplaced display of affection.

He hadn't been able to control himself. He had expected just to _tell_ her how he felt about her, not necessarily_ show _her, but he just couldn't help himself. It was like being a teenager all over again with all of the raging hormones and whatnot, and it didn't sit well with him. It just added to the ever-expanding list of things he apparently had no control over anymore.

He hadn't been standing against the door for more than half a minute, until he was roughly brought out of his self-deprecating moment by a forceful banging on the door. Wincing at the earsplitting noise so close to his ears, he peeled himself off of the door and tried - without success - to look a little less miserable before grasping the door handle and opening the door. He hadn't even had the time to speculate on who would visit so late in the evening, having become used to all sorts of random visits on all hours of the day - and night for that matter - from both Ashland, Hannibal, Alana Bloom and on one occasion even Jack Crawford himself, so when he opened the door and saw the person he least expected to see on his doorstep, he froze.

"Ashland", Will stuttered, taking in her drenched and equally miserably-looking form.

Without a word, she hurriedly strode forward and did what she should have done in the first place: she took his face in her delicate hands, bringing his face - his lips - down to hers.

It took no more than a second for Will to overcome the shock of seeing her again so soon after his faux pas and to come to terms with the fact that she was really here, really kissing him, before he jumped into the kiss with renewed vigor.

Feeling a shiver as he placed a hand on the small of Ashland's back, his otherwise preoccupied mind came to the quick conclusion that the door was still open, and without breaking the kiss, he took a couple of steps back to bring Ashland fully inside, before grasping blindly for the door with his unoccupied hand. Finding the doorknob with closed eyes was no easy task, but he managed to get hold of the door and slam it shut before backing Ashland against it, pressing their bodies closer together.

A slight squeak of surprise was heard from Ashland as her back met the door, and Will took the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips, successfully dominating the kiss before Ashland had a chance to recover. Feeling Will's hard body so closely pressed against her own, Ashland breathed out deeply into the kiss, a deep, quiet moan surprising the both of them.

Feeling pleased with himself and spurred on by the small admission of pleasure on Ashland's part, Will backed away from the door, turned and started slowly maneuvering the two of them past the dogs standing curiously around in the living room, never breaking the open mouthed kisses they were greedily exchanging.

Will managed a couple of steps before he bumped into the corner of an armchair, causing him to withdraw from Ashland for a second before again beginning to lead her backwards towards his bedroom. As soon as they passed through the door Ashland grasped at his shirt, roughly pulling it from his pants and unbuttoning a few buttons to have access to the warm skin underneath.

Will groaned as Ashland managed to slide her hands under the soft fabric of his shirt. He felt her delicate hands traveling upwards, mapping out his upper body with feathery light touches that had his pants tightening and his mouth drying out.

_'Hannibal was definitely right,'_ Will realized. Anyone who could make him feel like this with the mere touch of their hand certainly had some sort of power over him. And he wasn't entirely sure it was a good thing, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. It had been too long, far too long, and he wanted her. He needed her. He needed to possess her, like she had possessed him for far too long now.

His breath was labored as she pushed closer, and he edged his warm hands beneath her grey shirt, lightly massaging her sides as he pushed upwards, bringing the shirt with him.

Goosebumps trailed after his touch, rising on her creamy skin at his loving caresses. His lips left hers, only to kiss his way down her jaw, finding his destination at her delicate neck.

She shivered in his arms, grasping at his shirt as his warm, slick tongue touched down on her heated skin. She didn't stop him as he brought her shirt over her head, leaving her in jeans and her simple black bra; she only set to work on undoing the rest of the buttons on Will's shirt, immediately pushing it off his shoulders as she finished in a desperate need to get closer.

Will's fingers lightly stroked Ashland's back, before they traveled down her spine, ghosting over her bottom to test her reaction. At her slight sigh of approval, his hands took a firmer approach, smoothly stroking the skin above her jeans, before gently bringing his hands down to her clothed derrière, putting just a slight pressure on one side, as his other hand stroked its way up her side, past her breast, sliding up her neck shortly before landing on her cheek.

He tilted her head up towards him, pulling her into him, before planting a gentle kiss on her lips, inviting her to deepen it.

As their kisses went deeper, Will's grip on her behind tightened before it slithered up towards the belt-loop, trailing the skin just above it all the way around to the front, where he slowly unbuttoned her pants.

She breathed in deeply, knowing exactly where this was going, and she found herself not entirely minding this new development. Even though she should probably have walked away right about the moment when Will had kissed her, she knew that she would be lying to herself if she said she didn't want this.

She would tell him about Hannibal later. Or tomorrow.

Deciding to speed things up a bit, Ashland pulled her hands towards Will's, effectively stopping all movement on his side, before he felt her pull down the zipper of her pants.

For a second, Will had been fully convinced she was about to reject him. His gut had clenched in the expectation of rejection for the entirety of a second, before her hands had joined his in removing her jeans. Relief flowed through him as she took a step back, biting her lip as she looked up at him before tugging at the tight material clinging to her legs.

As her legs were freed from the constricting material, Ashland advanced on Will, deciding it was time for them to be at an equal state of undress. This time her hands made short work of the zipper, and she had him stepping out of his pants before he even registered the bold move.

Both now stripped to their underwear, Ashland pushed Will backwards onto the bed, forcing him strongly down on the bed before straddling him, her legs resting beside his thighs on the soft mattress.

"Are you sure?" Will asked through the heavy, eager kisses Ashland was showering down on his awaiting lips. After all, she had already been unsure of this _once_ today, and that had only been a kiss.

Ashland paused for a moment to think. Through the passionate haze she had been in from the moment she had kissed Will, she hadn't really thought much about it. It wasn't a time for thoughts, it was a time for action. But now that he asked, she realized, that no, she wasn't really sure about this. But she also knew, that she would regret it if she said no.

So she didn't.

Instead, in an attempt to hide her reluctance to answer, she relayed the question back at Will.

"Are you?"

Like Ashland had done, Will took a moment - though a much shorter moment - to think.

"Yes," he answered with confidence, running his hand through her hair, resting his hand on the back of her neck while gazing up at her with a look that awakened the butterflies in her stomach and made her heart flutter.

"Then so am I," she responded in a voice portraying much more assurance than she had. Her mind had been made up at the flash of affection in his eyes. She would not turn her back on him like this. Again.

Everything after that happened in a bit of a blur for Ashland. Spurred on by her words, Will suddenly decided it was time for him to take control over the situation, and Ashland found herself flipped onto the bed in a flurry of extremities.

In a matter of minutes, all clothes had been abandoned, strewn over the entire expanse of the room, and a heavily breathing Ashland lay underneath Will who was pushed up on his arms to hover above her.

Slowing down for a second, Will took in her body, his eyes observing every inch of skin exposed to him, mapping her out with his eyes as she had previously done to him with her hands. Drinking in the sight of her bare and anticipating body beneath him, he slowly leaned down, feeling the beat of her heart quickening while burying his face in her neck, breathing in deeply and kissing her skin.

Her petite hands touched down on his upper arms before creating a trail of soft brushes up towards his shoulders, caressing his neck as he trailed his nose down her neck, towards her collarbone, resting his forehead between her breasts for a short while before turning his attention to her left one. His nose gently caressed her areola, and Ashland squirmed in anticipation beneath him, as his hot breath hit her tightening nipples.

Deciding not to tease her further, Will dragged his tongue slowly over her perked bud, while shifting his weight to free one hand to keep the lonely breast company.

A slow and sinful moan escaped Ashland, who tightened her grip on Will's neck for a second, before settling one hand on Will's shoulder and the other in the sheets for a better grip.

He shifted his attentions to the other breast, yet again shifting his weight to be able to explore both swollen peaks.

The sound of Ashland's labored breathing pushed Will further, and he found himself trailing kisses downwards, passing between her breasts and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. His tongue trailed further downwards, lavishing one of her hipbones in heavy kisses and licks in a promise of what he would do to her.

She whined as he moved on, teasing her at the edge of his goal, sweetly dragging his nose up her inner thigh, nuzzling her at the apex of her thigh before burying his head between her legs.

Every sound she made drove him crazy, as he circled her sweet, swelled nub with his tongue. He knew she was ready for him, but knew he would regret it, if he didn't take the chance to thoroughly worship all of her, making her feel every single thing he was feeling for her.

He had her panting within minutes, and only stopped his touches as Ashland pushed him away. She needed him, now. And she probably had for a while.

Will rested his forearms on each side of Ashland's head, ducking down to look intensely into her eyes. She smiled slightly, granting him permission for exploring what had been building between them since their kiss, and leaned up to plant a light kiss on his lips.

She was ready.

He returned the smile with a slight upwards quirk of the lips, before tugging Ashland's legs around his waist. Positioning himself, he pushed slowly against her, reveling in the feeling of her. He felt her all around him as they joined; in his head, beneath him, around him, _in_ him. It was something he couldn't explain, but there, buried deep inside Ashland was where he felt whole.

She was tense as Will filled her. She shifted slightly to adjust to the feeling of him inside her, enjoying the foreign pleasure of having Will so close, permeating every part of her being.

Unaware that she had closed her eyes, she released the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes, signaling to Will he could move again.

Their pace started out slow and intimate. Despite the passion between the two, Will had no need for this to end soon. It had been a while for him, so he knew he needed to take his time with her, making sure she felt every touch, every movement of their joined hips as strongly as he did. He didn't want to finish before having thoroughly loved every inch of her body.

His pace soon built, creating further friction between them, drawing pleasured mewls and sighs from Ashland's throat.

He pushed closer to her, tighter and further up against the wall by the head of his bed, forcing Ashland into a position that inspired an idea in her.

She quickly pushed against him to shift positions, the surprise forcing him onto his back, while she hovered over him, taking over the dominant position. She grinned at the startled expression on his face, and took a hold of him, making his startled expression shift into a strained one as he focused on keeping himself from finishing right then and there in her hand. She was so warm against him, in a firm and dominant way that fired something up inside him he had not encountered before.

She stroked him firmly a few times, enjoying this power she had over him. She was in complete control of his pleasure.

She wanted to pleasure him like he had done to her, but Ashland could feel he was close, and the mere thought of her hot mouth on him would more than likely do it for him. And Ashland wasn't by far done with him yet. Touching would have to do for now.

Feeling like she had tortured him enough, she raised herself on her knees, sinking down on him, moaning in sync with Will at the new position that was bringing them both a new type of bliss.

They thrust against each other, Ashland rising and falling on him in a steady rhythm that gradually increased in intensity and strength as the minutes passed.

It didn't take long before Will started to feel the tightening signaling the end of line for him, and he couldn't help himself as he pressed harder up against her, thrusting slightly deeper than before, as he felt her tighten around him.

He groaned as her very vocal expression of their joined pleasure reverberated through the room. Her legs tightened at his thighs, as the sound of her had him growing harder inside her, and he found more and more difficult to hold back.

In his very dazed state of mind, he almost didn't notice when Ashland was trying to catch his attention by holding one hand to his cheek and the other tightly clutching his shoulder.

As he opened his eyes to see find out what she wanted - desperately hoping she wasn't going to tell him to stop, because he knew he would be able to - he locked eyes with her and found the most enchanting sight he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

The Ashland he observed over him looked flushed, dazed and absolutely disheveled, and in her tousled state, she moaned out a single word that sent his stomach tightening and his heart soaring.

"Please."

Shoving all hesitance to the back of his mind, he granted her wish and picked up the pace, pushing her down on him hard, losing any and all inhibitions along the way.

Every touch had her dizzy with affection, and every thrilling push had her losing her breath.

It wasn't long before their united efforts bore fruits and Ashland felt the build up inside her, pushing her further and further towards the edge.

Will could feel her getting closer, and he knew he was almost there.

A deep, resounding moan passed Ashland's lips as her entire body stiffened, her eyes shut, and her fingers grasped Will's back in their desperation to have an outlet for the bliss running through her body. The sound prompted a similar reaction on Will, and he could feel himself swelling before all muscles in his body tightened, pushing against Ashland a few last times, before climaxing with a throaty groan.

With labored breaths, Will rested his forehead against Ashland's breast, as they both reveled in the sensations of post-orgasmic bliss buzzing through them. Suddenly feeling exhausted, Will leaned up to give Ashland a short, but loving kiss before rolling them both to the side, Ashland following him to rest her head on his chest.

She basked in the thrums that still hummed inside her body every now and then, listening to Will's heartbeat gradually slow down as he fell asleep, joining him only a few minutes later.

* * *

_'Oh my god, what did I do.'_

She had gone to Will's place in the afternoon, with every intention of talking about her dinner with Doctor Lecter, which she had very much expected to end in tears and with her being thrown out, and ended up sleeping with the guy instead. Without having told him about her dinner with Doctor Lecter.

_'How did I even manage that?'_ Ashland questioned herself miserably, as she woke up a couple of hours later, the post-coital haze having evaporated from her mind. Will was still asleep, no doubt completely exhausted from all the very emotional sex they had been having, yet Ashland knew she would find no more rest.

This was not supposed to happen.

Sure, when Will had asked her if she was sure about it, she had said she was sure, and in her defense, she had been _pretty_ sure at the time. Not entirely, but pretty sure.

Now, she wasn't so sure. At all.

Making a decision that would most likely end whatever relationship she had with Will, she dragged herself out of the bed, being careful not to tug at the sheets or touch Will in any way as she looked for her clothing. Unlucky as she was, she managed to find everything but her panties that she assumed Will was now lying on, so with a resigned sigh, she pulled her jeans on, cringing at the feel of the fabric on her bare skin.

_'Hannibal Lecter is going to crucify me for this,'_ she thought, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket as she walked out of the house while making a call she should probably have made a long time ago.

"Bess? Hi sweetie, I'm sorry to just call you like this, I'm sure you're in the middle of dinner. No, I'm not okay. Listen, do you have room for me on your couch for the next couple of days?"

* * *

The door slid open to reveal the intimidating man she was planning to visit. It was probably a bad idea considering the fact that he was Wills psychiatrist, but she really needed his guidance. No matter how intimidated she was by him, and how intense a person he was, she had resigned herself to the fact that she needed to talk to someone, and the only one she really knew around here who wasn't the source of her current problems, was the man standing right in front of her. With his sleeves rolled up. Wearing an apron.

_'Woops.'_

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting? I can come back another time"

"Not at all Miss Vodall, you came _just_ in time for dinner."


	4. Flambé

My definition of short and quick update seems to be a bit off. Oh well. There will be a sequel as soon as I've written up the first chapter for it, and gotten some more plotting done. If you're following this story, I'll post an update when the sequel is up.

Beta: NemiNightingale

* * *

The loud ringing of the phone jolted Will awake.

The last 48 hours had been trying for him. After waking up alone after _her_ presence in his bed, he had buried himself in work, trying to distract himself. His latest distraction, or should he say work, involving a monstrous totem pole of people and finding out that Abigail had killed Nicholas Boyle in self-defense, had been an extremely tiring and terrifying affair, and after having agreed to keep Abigail's secret, Will had come straight home and… gone to bed.

Looking around, Will immediately realized that he was definitely _not_ in bed. He was in his living room. Sprawled uncomfortably over one of his leaning chairs.

The recent events, where he had more frequently been losing time, triggered worry and confusion inside him, which he soon felt mounting to almost unmanageable amounts. Knowing the feelings were about to completely overwhelm him, he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply, soon calming down enough to think clearly.

_'I have been sleepwalking lately'_, Will reasoned quickly, reassuring himself that nothing was wrong, and that his worries were for naught. His calming breaths helped lower his elevated heart rate, and with his mind clear, he immediately felt a pang of gratitude for the fact that he hadn't walked further this time.

He preferred not having the police drive him home every other early morning… in his underwear. The last time he had been found sleepwalking by the police had been a slightly awkward affair.

Shaking the last remains of sleep away from his mind, he realized the culprit of his early wake up call and stood, slowly making his way towards his bedroom to answer his cellphone.

* * *

His hand shook as he put down the phone. Another murder.

Funny how it took shorter time for the Chesapeake Ripper to kill than it did for Ashland Vodall to pick up her phone.

Yes, Will Graham was a tiny bit bitter. He didn't really know what to think. He had asked her if she was sure. She had said yes.

Then _why_ had she been gone when he woke up? And _why_ had she decided to avoid rejecting him properly, if that was what she wanted to do?

Ashland was running away from all her problems, and for some reason it didn't come as quite the big surprise for him. After all, she had moved half-way across the US to get away from her previous life, even though it seemed like she had no major problems to speak of back there.

But as she had somehow managed to slither into his life, and in record time been able to break down barriers he had spent most of his adult life building up, he couldn't feel as mad at her as he truly wanted to. He would wait for her to talk to him, and then figure things out before trying to settle on the proper emotional response for the situation.

It took two weeks the last time, perhaps it would take a month this time, but Will was not letting her off the hook this easily.

Disregarding any thoughts of Ashland for the moment, he got himself together and started dressing for the day.

There was another murder. One which he was currently in absolutely no state to go look at.

Not that he truly ever was. But he needed to put up the face that he was.

Despite trying to keep his mind blank and his focus completely on dressing, Will's thoughts didn't take long to stray back to Ashland.

He was morbidly happy there was a murder that day, or else all 12 hours of daylight would leave his mind painfully occupied and in its current favorite self-destructive track. With work to be done, he only needed to deal with thinking about Ashland when the sun went down, and all excuses about staying away from home were gone, unless he was planning on suddenly becoming a sociable person - which he wasn't.

With his mind straying to Ashland even though it shouldn't, his thoughts received a sudden intermission, as he reminded himself for the 100th time today, that it had probably been a _terribly_ bad idea to get involved with her. He couldn't even manage to focus on as simple a task as putting on clothes.

But when had that ever stopped anyone?

Other than Alana Bloom, of course. That woman was too clever for her own good. Or just clever enough for her own good.

_'I'm starting to think I'm the problem here'_, Will thought in sarcastic self-deprecation.

Perhaps Ashland was just as smart as Alana; she got away while she still could.

Though he would have preferred she had found that out before she had gone and slept with him. It had given him a slight hope of an even remotely normal relationship.

He sighed as the thought of Alana Bloom resurfaced. The first of the two women that he really shouldn't be thinking of. He didn't need another thing to weigh down on his mind when he was going in to look at a murder, especially not when feelings of guilt were involved.

In the beginning, Ashland had been a mere object to satisfy his curiosity, while he was recovering from the harsh rejection from Alana. Alana Bloom was everything a man could ask for, smart, beautiful, talented and above all, someone who could put up with him. Or so he had thought.

But she couldn't. And he couldn't change his growing instability. So they couldn't be together.

And then Ashland had showed up, with her silly coffee-quips and her casual, laid back demeanor. And she never questioned his condition. He knew she had picked up on the fact that he was… _Different_. But her respect for his privacy was apparently greater than her curiosity, a trait he appreciated immensely after working with the FBI. Everyone in his life seemed to be sticking their noses where it didn't belong. Hannibal, Alana, Jack Crawford. But Ashland… She was there for _him_. Not for his mind, or his morbid talents.

She was everything Will thought he didn't need. She was unexpected. But that was what made Ashland Vodall special, and needed. It was easy. And before last night, it hadn't been remotely strained. Their friendship had been effortless and - dare he say it - fun.

But looking back at the casual and effortless relationship he had with Ashland, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. After all, he _had_ kissed Alana before he had been entirely sure about wanting to pursue anything with Ashland. Not that he should technically feel all that bad, as he hadn't been anything more than friends with Ashland at the time.

But guilt isn't always completely reasonable, and Will knew he felt guilty for betraying both his own emotions, and for playing with the both of them, even though neither of them knew the other existed.

Not wanting to dig himself into a deeper hole than the one he was already in when it came to the women in his life, he finally cleared his mind and grabbed his car keys, hesitantly making his way towards his car.

_'Here we go again.'_

* * *

Will could see the crime scene from a mile away. The place was filled with countless faceless policemen, several identifiable FBI agents and an abundance of police tape, awkwardly parked cars and a mob of curious by-passers. In other words, it was the stereotypical crime scene.

He parked as close to the murder scene as possible, though far enough away to avoid getting caught up in the complete and utter pandemonium, before stepping out of the car to join the FBI behind the tape.

Will nodded hesitantly and awkwardly to whomever he recognized as he neared the area closed off by police tape. Will was only stopped as Hannibal stepped forward, revealing himself in the crowd to silently greet him, by treading onto the path Will was following to the crime scene.

Hannibal was completely silent, as he put his hand on Will's shoulder, firmly turning him around, and leading him away from the crime scene with fast, determined steps.

Will looked back in thinly veiled confusion, not entirely understanding the reasoning behind going in the _opposite_ direction of where they were supposed to be going.

He looked at Hannibal questioningly and received a look he had only seen glimpses of while Hannibal was dealing with particularly unfortunate patients. And he knew what it meant. And it wasn't a good thing. Not by a long shot.

The pitying faces they were met with as they were walking away were becoming more and more disconcerting. Somebody died. Someone he knew. Perhaps someone they both knew. Was it Alana? He hadn't seen her at the crime scene yet. But then again, was she even supposed to be at the crime scene?

The new realization that he might know the new murder-victim sent his mind reeling. There were so many possibilities and so many different outcomes, none of which he hoped he would find at the crime scene.

Yet, he knew he wouldn't be able to find rest before he had seen which of the alternatives that his macabre mind had conjured up, had come true.

_'Please, don't let it be Alana,'_ Will found himself desperately thinking.

Somehow she seemed like the next natural choice to fall victim to the Chesapeake Ripper. Despite the fact that Dr. Abel Gideon was behind bars, he knew he shouldn't count her as safe simply because of that. If anyone knew the intimate and sick minds of killers, it was Will, and he knew that if a murderer wanted someone dead, they would find a way to get it done, whether they were in jail or not.

Also, while Will didn't see Dr. Abel Gideon as the Chesapeake Ripper, Gideon had managed to annoy the real ripper, and that could easily mean killing someone close to Gideon while he was in jail to prove that Dr. Gideon wasn't the Chesapeake Ripper.

Which would mean Alana Bloom was number very high on that list.

Will knew he wouldn't be able to handle being there if the new victim was Alana. The guilt would be staggering. Knowing that he hadn't been there for her when she needed him. He wasn't sure how he would be able to live with that.

And he knew Hannibal knew that too, which was why Will was becoming more and more convinced of the identity of the body the further away from the victim they got.

By the time Hannibal had led him to his car, Will's head was swimming from all of the daunting scenarios that were playing out in his mind.

"Why are you leading me away from the crime scene?" he finally asked, genuinely starting to fear what he was going to see when he got back. Because he would be going back. Alana or no Alana. He needed to see for himself.

Hannibal stopped for a moment, looking like he was weighing his words with great care.

"As your friend and psychiatrist I deem it unadvisable for you to be at the scene of crime at this given time."

"Who is it, Hannibal?" Will pressed, and put a hand on the door of the passenger seat, stopping Hannibal as he tried opening the door for Will to get in.

"This is not the time, Will," Hannibal insisted, his tone as stony and firm as his face.

"There is never a right time for death, Hannibal."

* * *

Hannibal hadn't been able to keep him away for long.

A short 10 minutes later, Will stood before the body, his entire being shaking as the realization hit him.

Ashland. Oh _God_, it was Ashland.

With a fascinated horror growing inside him, Will observed the body, trying to gain an insight into the situation.

Even though the corpse was completely unrecognizable, the news that Ashland's apartment building had been burned down a couple of hours ago, and the half-melted credit card crookedly displaying the name 'Ashland Vodall', provided all evidence that was needed.

Technically they needed some DNA or some sort of finger print to provide a complete identification, but the body would provide neither.

It was completely burned to a crisp. The skin was charred from head to toe, and provided absolutely no distinguishing features for Will to recognize. It was somewhat of a relief to him. After all, he would more easily be able to pretend the body in front of him wasn't Ashland if he couldn't see her face.

What didn't provide him with any sort of relief was the fact that the body was missing both arms, which signaled either some sort of disturbing and painful pre-mortem torture; a murder most likely executed by the Chesapeake Ripper. That, or the murderer sawed off her arms post-mortem as a kind of trophy.

Both of the options made Will equally sick.

"We need to take her, Will," a voice came from behind him.

Beverly Katz.

"Find…" Will started, needing to stop for a second to maintain complete control over his shaking voice before continuing "…whoever did this."

"I'll do my best."

* * *

"Lamb shanks braised in red wine with rosemary served with mushrooms and a wine-infused au jus."

As plates with a stunning display of food were set in front of each guest the silence was deafening, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was the gentle thud of the plates being placed on the table in front of them.

"It looks delicious as always, Hannibal."

A nod of appreciation was sent towards Jack Crawford at the compliment, and yet again a strained hush fell over the table as Hannibal pondered over his next choice of words.

"I'm glad you could come. You as well, Will. You have been giving us all quite the cold shoulder lately, I was not sure you would accept my invitation for dinner."

An amused look was on Hannibal's face as he raised his eyes from the perfectly cooked lamb shank in front of him and settled his eyes on Will, as if he was enjoying his own private little joke. Considering the circumstances in which Will had landed himself in with a dead not-quite-girlfriend, he found himself unable to care about whatever subtle joke Hannibal had just made, and even less inclined to enjoy it, had he picked up on it.

"I don't see how I could refuse," came the answer from Jack Crawford as he gestured to the art-like display of food on the plate in front of him. "After all, you do spoil us."

Will remained silent, looking down at his plate instead of responding to the slight accusation. He was still giving him the cold shoulder, and probably would continue to do so for quite a while. Hannibal had in the past 24 hours (somewhat successfully) been trying to keep Will out of the FBI lab, in order to spare him the grisly details of the body that was assumed to be Ashland.

The previous silence of the room filled out, as eating utensils were picked up and scraped gently against the plates. Will wasn't entirely sure why he had agreed to come here. He had absolutely no appetite, and he wasn't too fond of Doctor Lecter at the moment. Will didn't need protection from a corpse; he saw those on a daily basis. What the well-meaning doctor didn't understand was, that the only place Will was haunted by the ghost of Ashland was in his home, in his bed, in his mind.

He would rather be by the charred and mangled body, trying to figure out how this happened, than at home where his pillow still smelled like her.

Prodding distastefully at the controversial menu of lamb fore shank in front of him with his fork, Will closed his eyes and was, at the thought of the questionable menu, suddenly struck by a thought so horrifying that he was completely paralyzed.

Ashland's dead body had been missing her arms.

His eyes opened reluctantly, and his gaze locked with Hannibal Lecter's at the other end of the table.

"Bon Appétit."


End file.
